Gallantry and Gallimaufry
by Lollypop 8
Summary: Silly and serious snippets from the comings and goings between our world and Narnia. Because this site can never have too many. "Eustace knew his cousins were by far some of the most bizarre, eccentric, and peculiar individuals in existence, but watching Lucy lick pebbles was certainly among the more inexplicable things he had witnessed."


A/N: Greetings! My creative writing skills have gotten a little rusty, so I'm attempting to oil them with some Narnian drabbles inspired by prompts from a random word generator. The hope is that they'll get progressively longer until I can write a true story. Please try several before you give up on me. Enjoy!

(Side note within the author's note: In case you were curious about the title, gallimaufry means a hodgepodge, jumble, or confused medley. Like this collection of random stories. Shout-out to online dictionaries. Gallantry just ended up in the title to make it sound like something Trumpkin would interject.)

Disclaimer: I am not C.S. Lewis, seeing as I am still in the Shadowlands.

* * *

 _ **Wearing**_

When High King Peter the Magnificent, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord over Cair Paravel, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion was just Peter Pevensie of Spare Oom, he already felt he bore a tremendous weight on his shoulders. He had not one, but three younger siblings to look after. And he needed to take care of his mum with his father fighting in the war. After all, that made him the man of the house.

And now that he was king, High King no less, the burden he wore had increased. There were diplomatic agreements to be negotiated, laws to be reestablished in the wake of the White Witch's reign, strategic defense to master, and, to top it all off, he still had to make sure his siblings didn't get impaled by a Fell Beast's sword or trodden on by a less-than-observant Bulgy Bear.

Yet... Even when his golden crown seemed too heavy to bear, one thing could lift that burden. A quiet, yet powerful purr in his ear, "Do not grow weary, my child. At the proper time you will reap a harvest if you do not give up. Your labor in Me is not in vain. Take hold of that to which you were called. I will be with you."

Peter picked up his crown.

 _ **Rattle**_

Susan continued her vigil. Lucy had drifted off a few hours after the sun had dipped beneath the horizon, curled up in Peter's plush desk chair. The Valiant had not yet fully recovered from her own bout of illness, but she had taken it upon herself to assist in Peter's care. At least her temperature was down, as Susan had noticed when depositing an afghan on her little shoulders.

She turned her attention back to Peter. She rewetted the cloth at his forehead and readjusted his blankets. He had overworked himself. Again. And minding Lucy had not helped. But thankfully he finally had an excuse to partake of some well-deserved rest. As much as he pretended otherwise, he was not invincible. He ran out of steam just like everybody else.

Now the High King would have to submit himself to someone else's ministrations for once, whether he liked it or not. And that was what the Gentle Queen did best. Once more, she returned to her knees and sought Aslan's blessing so that the rattle in her elder brother's lungs might be eased.

 _ **Geology**_

Eustace knew his cousins were by far some of the most bizarre, eccentric, and peculiar individuals in existence, but watching Lucy lick pebbles was certainly among the more inexplicable things he had witnessed. She leaned back on her heels, pondering for a moment, and then scooped up another stone, bestowing this one with a solid lick as well.

His expression must have revealed much, for Edmund leaned over and whispered to him, "Lucy studied soil lore with a lost tribe of earthmen—gnomes, you might call them—during our reign. It's quite impressive, really."

Eustace Clarence Scrubb was no fool. He knew that very little could be gleaned about geology without modern instrumentation, and a tongue was no substitute. But he found evidence that he might need to revise his stance when they discovered Lucy's claims about high mineral content to be well-founded. He was eager to leave Deathwater Island behind.

 _ **Shock**_

To find a large wood in the back of a wardrobe was a pretty shocking thing indeed. It defied all logic. In fact, it was probably the biggest shock of Susan's life.

Or so she thought until she was told that she and her siblings were meant to rule the vast wood, plains, mountains, and coasts all somehow contained within the boundaries of said wardrobe. That revelation had been similar to their dip in the icy waters of the River Rush—shocking, to say the least. How were children, from Finchley no less, meant to rule a magical country? They hadn't yet finished secondary school let alone learned diplomacy with Talking Beasts.

But not all shocks were unwelcome. Take Edmund accepting her embrace right now, for instance.

 _ **Wonder**_

Lucy leaned against the railing of the _Splendour Hyaline_ with a wistful sigh. Whether she was going for a ride in the Western Wood, surveying the mountains at the Archen border, or watching the sun rise from the direction of Aslan's Country, she could barely take in the breathtaking beauty of her kingdom. The marvel of its verdant fields, expansive skies, melodious brooks, and kind-hearted population had not faded since she first stepped up to a glowing lamp post. If anything, her wonder grew. Much like everything else in Narnia.

 _ **Smiling**_

"Really, Peter. If you wanted to rinse off, I could have informed you of some better bodies of water than the Marshwiggle's swamp."

"Shut it, Ed, and give me a hand."

With a look of exaggerated revulsion, Edmund slowly lowered his hand toward Peter's, genuinely grimacing when he felt the slimy muck ooze between their fingers. Before he could make another wise-crack, he felt a sudden yank on his arm. He flipped over and landed on his back in the thick mud, and slowly began sinking while Peter tried to hide his chortles behind his grimy wet arm. "Oops."

Just then, their Falcon lieutenant perched on a swaying cattail a safe distance from the swamp. "Sires, Stumptrodder is still waiting for you. When I left, he was fretting that you had likely been caught in a swamp flame and then consumed by the baby alligator he claims to have seen yesterday."

Edmund didn't know it was possible, but he could have sworn the Bird was smiling.

 _ **Insisting**_

"Oh, Edmund, won't you eat more than just toast? This casserole is sublime. I implore you to try some. Or do I need to get Chef Rumblebuffin to squeeze in here to beg you on his knees? Anyways, you're far too skinny and we certainly cannot have a scrawny king." Edmund shook his head at Susan, picking up a fork. Even if it was an empty threat, he did not want a Giant to upset their dinner table…

First the world was spinning, and then it began to disappear behind amorphous black spots that slowly enlarged across his view of the battlegrounds. It sounded as if the waterfall from Cauldron Pool was roaring inside his skull, yet he could still make out Peter pleading with him to stay awake, hold on a little longer, that surely Lucy would be there soon…

"Pleeeeeease?" Edmund looked up from the draft he had been working on. Now that his inkwell had spilled across it, he didn't suppose he would be able to propose the treaty this afternoon anyways. Looking into his little sister's wide eyes, he sighed. "How long is Mr. Tumnus expecting us to stay?"

Why won't anyone just ask for him to do things normally?

 _ **Competence**_

Once again, Oreius disarmed the dark-haired colt before him. The young King's slender arms were shaking with the exertion of the past hour, and the observant general could not help but notice the water gathering in his new monarch's eyes. He drew back a few paces, reminding himself that the colt could not have yet seen eleven summers (even having lived in a realm without an eternal winter).

"That will be all for today, Your Highness. I have every confidence that our current training regimen will teach you basic aptitude with a blade before the first leaf falls." After a pause, he added, "Based upon your diplomatic handling of the Calormene ambassador here a fortnight ago, I expect that your quick learning will transfer outside of the castle walls as well."

King Edmund granted the centaur one of his rare, small smiles.

 _ **Distortion**_

Peter sat up in bed as he heard the front door slowly creak open well after midnight. After the sound of keys being dropped on the entryway table, he recognized the signature click-clacking of Susan's heels on the kitchen's wooden floor before she slipped them off.

He couldn't fathom why she would stay out so late at parties when she would be missing the chance to share breakfast with her siblings at the park the next morning. Or why she was so preoccupied with the latest lipstick trend when she used to amass queues of suitors without the use of any cosmetic.

More and more, their beloved sister was slipping through their fingers, ensnared in the meager offerings of this bland and unfriendly world. He feared that soon she would no longer remember her true self, Queen Susan the Gentle, the courageous and courteous royal, the steadfast bulwark in the storms that assaulted Cair Paravel, the selfless counseling sibling, when she admired her distorted reflection in a looking glass.

Once again, Peter did not sleep well.

 _ **Winning**_

The High King clenched the hilt of his sword so tightly that he feared _Rhindon_ may snap in two. The harpy continued to leer at the tense man before her. She repeated her question in a gravely, keening voice, "So what will it be, little King?" His gaze settled on the wer-wolf whose massive bulk lay upon his two youngest siblings. Lucy's squirming stilled as it placed a long claw onto the soft flesh at her throat with mock tenderness. Peter didn't dare look for long at the unconscious form of his brother, face pale in the moonlight apart from the crimson droplets superimposed over his freckles. He then shifted his attention to the huddle of soldiers, fauns and leopards and centaurs and wolves, all unarmed and kneeling at the center of a ring of Fell Beasts. There was no winning in this impasse.

 _ **Production**_

"Hear ye, hear ye! Let it be known that King Edmund has at long last surpassed our beloved Queen Susan in the realm of height!" Edmund declared with a grand flourish of his arms. He nimbly leapt onto a stone bench on the terrace, planting his booted feet in a victorious stance. "The next conquest is to be the height of the High King himself! And then—" he paused, arms lowering. "Wait. If I'm taller than Peter, does that make me the Higher King?"

Susan shook her head, massaging her temples, but Lucy giggled, earning a wry grin from Edmund.

He then continued, "And then, after that, perhaps he shall reign even over the height of General Oreius!" Susan groaned.

"Well, Susan," Lucy piped up, "haven't you been looking for an excuse to host another ball at the Cair? This could be the perfect occasion."

"Ah, yes! Fine idea, Lu!" Edmund hopped down, latching his arm around Susan's and turning her around. "And then I can escort Susan into the throne room so that all can marvel at how my head is finally—"

"Swollen to twice its size?" Susan interrupted.

"Well, no, higher than yours."

"And soon all shall be addressing you as 'King Edmund the Second Tallest'. No need to make such a big production."

 _ **Grandfather**_

Digory's eyes trailed around the room, no longer listening to the discussion. He watched Edmund talk animatedly with his hands, the casual topic of conversation not masking the fact that he bore wisdom beyond his years. He was so different from the sullen, angry lad that set foot in his home so many years ago. A tinkling sound filled his ears as Lucy covered her laugh with a hand, and he smiled to imagine her as a grown adult, for her beauty was already flourishing at her young age. He may be decades her senior, but he still had much to learn from her unwavering faith. Meanwhile, Peter leaned back in his chair, his face clearly displaying his pride in his siblings. He had much to be proud of himself considering how well he was excelling at his studies, though he was far too humble to brag about it.

His reverie was broken as the door slammed open. Eustace apologized for their tardiness before shaking his hand. Jill dropped a kiss on his cheek. Digory caught the twinkle in Polly's eye and exchanged a grin with her. For two unmarried folks, he wasn't sure what they did to deserve five grandchildren as indescribable as theirs.

 _ **Glowing**_

By the day of the wedding, it was common knowledge that Ramandu's daughter was a star. As such, the attendants had very little to do by way of preparing their future queen for the ceremony. Not even a blind mole could deny her dazzling brilliance. But as she gracefully floated down the aisle, the Narnians were unsure whether the love in Caspian's face glowed even brighter than his radiant bride.

 _ **Supervision**_

Tongue sticking out of her mouth, Lucy passed her needle through the fabric again and again. Seemingly without provocation, a ball of yarn tumbled out of the basket beside her chair. She watched it lazily roll across the room, shrugged, and continued her work. But then another dropped to the ground with a barely audible thud. Lucy frowned at the basket. Mrs. Beaver did like to keep the room overstocked, and perhaps the faun dancing lesson downstairs was getting too rowdy. Before she could locate where she left off, yarn cascaded across the scarlet rug as the basket overturned. Squinting at one of the oddly shaped balls, Lucy realized it was not, in fact, made of yarn. It was a Hedgehog.

"Mrs. Spurrslip, would you kindly explain why you felt inclined too impersonate a ball of yarn?" she asked.

The Hedgehog gradually unrolled, looking bashful. "Apologies, Your Majesty. Queen Susan has charged me with watching your repair work."

"Why, praytell, is such supervision necessary? I thought she trusted me with this tapestry."

Anxiously shifting her feet, Mrs. Spurrslip replied, "I believe she was concerned for your wellbeing"

Lucy dropped her work exasperatedly and ran her hands over her face. "It's needlework! Edmund's outside practicing swordplay, and apparently I can't be trusted with a needle lest I prick my finger! Lion forbid. Maybe I'd end up in an enchanted sleep or some other rot!" Mrs. Spurrslip blinked, unsure how to respond. Lucy sighed, her tirade finished. "I'm sorry; it's not your fault. Well, you may as well make yourself comfortable… and remind my brothers to never send you for reconnaissance missions."

 _ **Image**_

"It's horrid," Susan uttered, staring in revulsion and a little fright at the statue standing resolutely before the ornate doors of the Grand Temple in Tashbaan. Its sinewy form towered over those who kneeled before his jeweled feet, its topaz eyes boring into all who dared look into its vulture-like face. It had multiple arms, two clawing at the air above its head, the others seeming to reach down at the mortals passing by to enter the temple.

"I whole heartedly agree, dear sister," Edmund answered, not letting his eyes rest for too long upon the idol before him.

"What is it?" Susan asked with a shudder.

"Tash, the irresistible, the inexorable. And thankfully, I believe, the non-existent. It's the demon that many of the Calormenes seek to pacify with their sacrifices and deeds, including your suitor Rabadash."

"Why be a slave to such a foul being when you could serve Aslan? He is still frightening, for he isn't a tame lion, but at least we know what he wills has more purpose than any course we ourselves choose."

Edmund closed his eyes, imagining he could feel the velvet of Aslan's mane under his fingers, could smell the springtime aromas that often accompanied the appearance of the Great Lion. "I cannot pretend to understand the reasons behind their adoration of such a creature. Though I'm sure much of it is entrenched in the heavy hand of the Tisroc (may he repent before forever) and their traditions. But yes, Aslan is a far greater Master."

Their escort finally closed the respectful distance between himself and the royal guests. "Shall we proceed inside, Your Majesties?"

Susan paled a little at the idea of walking past the scrutinizing gaze of the statue and into its place of worship. Edmund drew himself to his full height, employing his most officious tone. "Deepest apologies, Tarkaan, but we find Ourselves unable to enter such an institution where We must bow before a graven image to gain access. We, though a King and Queen, must answer to the Lion, and We could not bear to ever again look into his face if We had so much as considered entering such a blasphemous place. Therefore, We entreat thee to resume the tour of Tashbaan in another location."

The Tarkaan looked startled at first, but then sneered. Though they had traveled south of Narnia, their situation seemed to be heading yet farther south. "Prince Rabadash will surely hear of this, and he will be most displeased if his future wife and flower does not show the appropriate respect to his customs."

Susan snapped, courtly language discarded. "I do not need to defend myself before you or him. However distasteful the Prince finds it, I cannot show allegiance to any but Aslan, and Aslan himself shall protect me from any consequences such a choice yields." She turned to her brother, "Come, Edmund. Let us find Prince Corin and retire to our rooms. I think I have heard all of Prince Rabadash and Calormen that I have needed."

Needless to say, Edmund was quite relieved.

* * *

A/N: So what did you think? Was Lucy licking pebbles too weird? (What else was I supposed to do for "geology" in Narnia? Though I'm still not really sure where that idea came from.) Which was your favorite? Least favorite? Was it cheesy? Poorly written? Brilliant? Please let me know in a review! Maybe I'll write some more if there's any interest. Thanks for reading.


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